


Non-Volatile Memory

by patches365



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, WandaVision (TV)
Genre: Character Study, F/M, Flashbacks, Introspection, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-20 15:00:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30006636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/patches365/pseuds/patches365
Summary: Vision has been restored physically and mentally, but not emotionally.  SWORD's tampering has left him nothing but a sentient computer with no personal attachment to the data stored within him.  Wishing to make himself whole again, he seeks out Wakanda's premier scientist to help him emotionally reconnect with his memories, and thus with Wanda.New chapter every Friday.
Relationships: Shuri & Vision (Marvel), Wanda Maximoff/Vision
Comments: 13
Kudos: 80





	1. NullReferenceException

His programming directive had instructed him to destroy the Vision. At startup, the value of "Vision" had been initialized to reference the entity contained within the Westfield Anomaly. However, after making contact with this entity, he had come to the conclusion that it could not, in fact, be the Vision he was tasked to eliminate. This entity was a facsimile, created to bear the likeness and superficial properties of the original Vision, but in the end it was merely a placeholder. Destroying this entity would not satisfactorily meet the objective of "destroy the Vision".

The Westfield Anomaly Entity bore a power that allowed it to reconnect a person's mind to data that had been rendered unreachable. If he was missing access to data that would allow him to accurately define who "the Vision" was meant to refer to, he accepted that it was prudent to restore this data and had allowed the Westfield Anomaly Entity access to his mind.

Upon restoration of this data, he could only come to one logical conclusion:

"I am Vision."

He bore the synthezoid's original body and data banks, thus that rendered himself a more accurate definition of "the Vision" than the entity before him. Unfortunately, that was the extent of his understanding. There was no further meaning attached to that declaration.

> _theVision = this; // Warning: variable is assigned but never used_

The new data reflected the history of events that happened to this body prior to his most recent powerup, but beyond that acknowledgment it bore no other special significance to him. It resonated no differently than the petabytes of other data that he could access, beyond the fact that this data was originally generated by this body and the other data was originally generated by someone else.

Was that the crucial component that would define someone as "the Vision", then? The world held a vast amalgamation of data and content produced by billions of different minds, but a piece of information's existence was independent of the identity of the one who originally created it. The identity of an artist being unknown does not cause their work to cease to exist. If he were truly "the Vision", then there had to be something that intrinsically tied this specific data to him. Something that he was still missing.

> _theVision = null; // Error: NullReferenceException: object is not assigned a value_

With these questions still left unanswered, he found himself in a state where he was unable to proceed with his mission until the parameters had been more accurately defined. As such, he departed the Westfield Anomaly to return to the SWORD base for clarification of his intended target.

But... no. The data indicated that SWORD did not create him, they merely reactivated him after he had been rendered inoperational by a being called Thanos. They had provided him with this ambiguous objective, and his inability to fulfill this objective spoke to a more fundamental flaw in his code or construction. It would be wiser to return to his original creator for guidance or maintenance.

According to the data, his AI was originally a program called JARVIS created by a man named Tony Stark. Tapping into the area's ambient wifi, he searched the internet for information on where he might locate Tony Stark now.

...

Ah.

Tony Stark was deceased. This must have occurred during the time he was inoperative.

Who else was there who had access to his original data matrix? SWORD only reconstructed him out of the parts they had, but they had no schematics, no code reference. Ultron had built his body originally, but his physical form bore no relevance to the content of his mind. That had been provided by Tony Stark.

Tony Stark and...

He reached up and touched the chip in his forehead. It was some manner of advanced solar cell that synthesized energy to power his neural circuits, but that wasn't what had been there originally. Before, it had been a golden gem. The Mind Stone. One of the Infinity Stones: primal sources of power from the beginning of the universe. Even though it had been a part of his body, that was the limit of the data he had on its properties.

Where was the Mind Stone now? Even the vast arrays of data he had at his disposal offered him no answers to that question. The Westfield Anomaly Entity bore a golden gem in its forehead, but it was still nothing more than a copy. A copy created by Wanda Maximoff.

Wanda Maximoff. She was a person who was featured heavily in his retrieved data. They had a shared connection to the Mind Stone, therefore it was only logical that his previous incarnation had spent time with her in order to understand it. Yet his data banks were full of activities that seemed to serve no purpose to that end. Watching television together. Preparing food that he had no need to consume. Physical intimacy.

She would not be a suitable source of answers to his questions.

There was one remaining possibility. Tony Stark was gone and SWORD lacked any data on him that was not reverse-engineered. But just prior to his deactivation, he had been taken to an institution in the nation of Wakanda in an attempt to remove the Mind Stone in a manner that would allow him to continue to function. They had mapped his entire original neural network as well as a schematic of his new assembly without the Mind Stone in place. The procedure had been interrupted before it could be completed, but if the Wakandan scientists still had that data...

It was his only lead. In order to return to full operability and complete his intended mission, that was where he would start. And once the true identity of the Vision had been confirmed, he would destroy it.

* * *

Following the route stored in his memory of his first visit to Wakanda, the synthezoid flew himself over a dense African jungle toward a mountain outcropping. The terrain from his memories had been but a projection, shielding a hidden nation within its verdant depths. If he continued pressing forward towards this mountain thicket, he expected to phase through its illusion and arrive at his destination.

Confident in his trajectory, he proceeded to fly face-first into a very solid tree.

He remained planted against the trunk momentarily, reassessing his calculations. He had neglected to take into account that it had been five years since he had come here last, and in that time there had been a colossal battle on Wakandan soil that may have caused them to restructure their defenses in the meantime.

Regardless of the state of their current defensive system, the physical location of the country was unlikely to have changed, only its means of access. If that was all that was stopping him, then it was of no matter.

He altered his physical density and phased through the tree that had been blocking his path before, continuing in the direction he had originally intended. He passed through thick, twisting undergrowth, that upon closer observation had a strained cellular composition as though it had been forced to grow to that size in a very short period of time.

But upon phasing through this shield of greenery, the world opened up before him to a more familiar sight: A shining city surrounded by rolling mountains lush in plant life, a glistening body of water, and vehicles of advanced technology flitting about its skies contrasting with the pastoral agrarian farmland at its outskirts.

There was a twinge in his chest at the sight. Something like a circuit that had fired but was unconnected to anything to process its payload. Clearly there was something amiss with his reconstruction, and hopefully the Wakandans would be able to rectify it.

He took off in a brisk glide towards the tower at the center of the city. But before he could make it particularly far, a spear was launched from the ground, whizzing past his head in what appeared to be a warning shot. Hearing a chorus of angry shouts from the ground, he looked down to see a collection of men draped in ornate blue shawls readying another volley of spears at him. "You! Trespasser! What business do you have here?!" one shouted.

The synthezoid deduced that it was in his best interest not to stir up unnecessary trouble. The data indicated he had been here before and thus should be known to someone, though they would likely not be familiar with his current form. Compared to the warm red, silver, and gold coloration that characterized his previous incarnation, he himself was a cold and ashen white head to toe. He slowly descended, holding out his hands to display his lack of armament, though he had no need for superfluous weaponry to begin with.

"I apologize for not forewarning my arrival as I lacked the means to do so," he explained. "I come here only in search of information. My memory indicates that there should be a certain 'Shuri' who may be able to assist me with my condition."

The blue-clad men looked to each other uneasily, then back to him with a wary gaze. "You come here unannounced and then demand to speak to the Queen?"

Queen? The data in his head had labeled her no such thing, but like the surrounding defenses, it was possible this, too, had changed in the past five years.

"I am... to the best of my knowledge, Vision," he replied calmly. "I believe I was here five years ago where Shuri took diagnostics on me and performed modifications to my physiology. I am in need of the data from that time."

One of the men in the group had a finger to his ear and was mumbling something, hopefully contacting someone in the city to relay this information. There was a pregnant pause before the man slowly turned back around, eyes wide with both confusion and suspicion. "The Queen wishes to see you in person. You will follow us."

The synthezoid nodded in approval. This had been the first real test he'd had of the veracity of the information the Westview Anomaly Entity had granted him access to, and it had proved accurate so far.

The blue-cloaked guardsmen led him through the city, where many stopped to stare and whisper at the stark white figure whose presence stood out in sharp contrast to the earthen tones and colorful decor of the surroundings. Alighting the stairs to the central palace, they were flanked by stern-faced women in red with shaven heads who maintained a watchful eye on the pale synthezoid as they approached the landing.

When they reached the top, they were greeted by a young woman whose black hair was done up in tight braids and pulled back in an ornate bun, which was then crowned with a golden headdress. She bore more of the red-clad female guards at her side, along with an older woman wearing a tall headpiece and a wide, laced collar.

The younger woman shuffled forward quickly, as though still unused to the attire she was wearing, but paused when she finally got a good look at the white figure before her. Her face fell and she muttered, "Ohhh, no no no, what did they _do_ to you?" Turning, she barked behind her, "Prep my lab immediately!"

The older woman stepped forward, chastising, "Shuri, my daughter, you have responsibilities now as Queen. You cannot continue to find any excuse that presents itself to hide yourself away in your lab."

"This is not an excuse, Mother!" she retorted, pointing at the synthezoid. "I mean... look at him!"

"I agree his design is in poor taste, however..."

"This isn't about that!" After a beat, Shuri amended, "Well, it is partially about that. But you said yourself that I have responsibilities. And five years ago I had a responsibility to _him_ , and I failed. I failed and then all of _this_..." She raised her arms and shook her head with a weary sigh. "Our King vanished. I, the next in line, vanished. The kingdom was in disarray. And then when we were suddenly all returned five years later, the questions over the proper line of succession--"

"We all lived, it, my daughter," her mother reminded. "All I ask is that you remember your role in keeping this tentative stability we have now been able to achieve."

"I will, Mother. But I still have a duty to him that I have not yet completed, and I owe him that much."

The two women stared each other down with serious expressions. But, finally, the older woman relented with a sigh and stepped back. "I will put my faith in you. Having this unfinished business hanging over your head is likely to interfere with your duties."

Shuri made an excited squeak with a fidget unbecoming of royalty, then beckoned to the white synthezoid standing before her. "Come! Come with me! Certainly you are in desperate need of improvements!"

He followed her into the palace and down polished wood and glass hallways, to a spiral stairwell of marbled murals. As they walked, he informed her, "I am not here seeking improvement, simply restoration. I was reconstructed after my termination five years ago, but the data indicates that I am still missing key components that interfere with my ability to complete my mission."

"Just from your voice I can already tell you're missing your emotional matrix," she commented as they reached the inner sanctum of her lab, a rotunda surrounded by the blue glow virtual screens and workbenches. She rummaged around in a storage cabinet before emerging a moment later in a plain T-shirt that bore the image of a grinning pickle. Shaking out her arms and head, she breathed, "Ahh, much better."

The synthezoid regarded her stoically, stating, "Emotions only hamper logic in the execution of a mission. My core directive is to find and destroy the Vision, and I do not see how emotion will aid me in identifying who that refers to."

Shuri flinched as she swiped a virtual screen into existence in front of her face and hastily typed at it. "Ohhh... what kind of hack-job did they have working on you? Disregarding emotion is the work of a lazy programmer. I'll bet they still teach people physics out there assuming that friction and air resistance don't exist, too. All they do is make the math easier, but do nothing to represent a real-world scenario that's of any use to anyone."

She pressed a key and a slab rose from the floor. "Here, lay down on that and let's survey the damage." He tentatively did as he was told and a hard-light scanning device materialized overhead, bathing him in blue light.

Shuri tapped at her screen, then audibly grimaced. "Ohhh no no, this is even worse than I thought." Flipping the screen around, she showed him an image that was the outline of his form, with tangles of lines running haphazardly throughout it, many in his head region terminating abruptly. "Did they have a group of children reassembling you? This is your scan from five years ago," she informed him, swiping over another outline that bore orderly groupings and branchings of lines akin to depictions of the human nervous system, all weaving together to congregate at a tight central point at his forehead.

He gazed at the images blandly. "I cannot process ambiguity. Have you located the error in my construction and can you fix it?"

"Well, there is a _lot_ wrong here and it's going to take time," she said. "Before we were attacked I was 91% complete in disconnecting and re-routing the synapses from the Mind Stone. But whoever rebuilt you just... left those synapses hanging because they did not know why they had been disconnected in the first place. You're a reconstruction of _what_ they saw when they recovered your body with no understanding of _why_."

She spread her hand over the screen to zoom in on the tangled chaos of his current configuration to examine the terminals of some of those disconnected synapses. "And here... like some note attached to your neural network with a piece of bubble gum is your supposed 'core directive'. I have seen orders inserted into someone's brain like this before, and much more competently..."

He was silent, processing that. "But my core directive is all that drives me to act. Without it, I have no reason to exist. What drives me then?"

She shrugged. "Whatever you want."

"Want..." he repeated. "I have no concept of 'want'. I was designed to follow orders."

There was a sadness in her eyes as she looked over his body prone on the table, gazing expressionlessly at the scanner above him. "Vision..." She would address him by that name? "You were not designed without the concept of 'want', you were stripped of it. Just like those who put you back together never asked themselves 'why', they didn't want you asking that of yourself, either. But I remember who you were when you were here five years ago like it was only a few weeks ago... because for me it was. And you _wanted_ so much... for both the universe and those close to you."

He narrowed his eyes, reassessing the data concerning his last visit to this place. He had instructed Wanda Maximoff to destroy the Mind Stone in his forehead and him along with it in order to save half the universe. Surely a logical trade-off as his existence was hardly worth that of half the universe. Logical, but...

Who had instructed him to resort to that course of action?

And though the request had been logical, why... had there been such a deep ache in his chest when he asked such a thing of her?

The answers to these questions were lost in the dead-end synapses that lay tangled and misdirected in his head.

There was silence in the lab aside from the soft hum of the virtual screens and scanners. Permitting her to operate on him meant permitting her to overwrite his core directive and allow his logical processes to be overridden with emotional ones. On its surface that seemed like an even more chaotic state than the one he currently found himself in. Chaotic, and yet...

A tree that bends weathers a storm more readily than a rigid one.

With a swallow, he requested, "Shuri, I ask that you restore me to my original operational state."

She gave a warm smile, placing a hand on his head as she summoned down a pair of probes that positioned themselves over the chip in his forehead. "I promise to do it right this time. Both for your sake, and for hers."

"Hers?" he questioned.

Shuri pulled a pair of virtual handheld joysticks out of the floating panel to guide the probes. "When the procedure is successful, you will understand who soon enough." Examining the readout, she informed him, "There is so much wrong here, I am just going to have to rebuild these connections sequentially from the beginning. _And_ reprogram the synapses to work collectively while I'm at it," she added as an afterthought.

"Will I be powered down for this procedure?" he wondered.

"No! You're not just some computer I can unplug and plug back in. You are a living thing with a spark of life that can't be so easily reignited." Squinting at her display, she commented, "Of all the things they did to you, that's the one I can't explain. This energy source that restored you... I can't identify it other than it bears similar properties to that of the original Mind Stone. Where did they get it...?" The synthezoid on the table was silent as he also lacked the answer to this question.

With a deep breath, Shuri steadied her hands and assured him, "So, yes, you will be awake for the entire thing. As I reconnect these pathways, the associated memories will likely start replaying in your head under their restored contexts. So I suggest you lay back, relax, and enjoy this trip I'm about to take you down memory lane."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \-- After finishing Wandavision, I noted that we've still never gotten much exploration of Vision's character and motives. He's always just been used as a plot device, either as the _deus ex machina_ in "Age of Ultron" or the walking McGuffin in "Infinity War", with little exploration of what _he_ wants or what _he_ feels. As the Vision we see for the majority of Wandavision is a construct of Wanda's memories and is therefore likely heavily idealized to her escapist fantasy, I don't consider him to technically be a look into Vision's mind himself (even if he was still adorably awkward and at least generally autonomous). I contemplated either doing a between-the-scenes analysis story of his actions in the movies, or a story about him coming to terms with being Brought Back Wrong after Wandavision. But after thinking them over, I realized that I could do both at once, and thus this story was born.  
> \-- Shuri's new role as Queen is mostly a wild guess about what's going to need to happen for Black Panther 2 due to the untimely death of Chadwick Boseman. I kept the specifics of what happened ambiguous since I don't know how Marvel is going to deal with that, but I at least wanted to be aligned with the likely reality of it. And Shuri does take up the Black Panther mantle in the comics, so it's not a stretch.  
> \-- I use a lot of computing/programming terms in this as an analogue to Vision's thought process while he's running strictly as a sentient computer. As such, the story title and chapter titles are all references to computing/programming terms as well.  
> \-- Really basic overview of object-oriented programming to explain the terms used at the beginning. An Object is like a box that has two labels on the outside of it: What sort of thing is in the box and the name of that particular box. So, say you have two boxes labelled "Cups" named Box A and Box B. If you want to tell the program to remove a cup from Box A, you'd tell it something like RemoveCup(BoxA). However, the program can only do this if there are actually any cups in Box A. If there aren't, the computer doesn't know what to do because you told it to remove a cup and there aren't any, and computers are notorious for doing exactly what you tell them to do and only what you tell them to do. This is a NullReferenceException: the program looked for something you told it was there and it wasn't there (a "null" value), and now it's stuck. Now say you wanted to tell Box B to do something to one of its cups. The name label is on the _outside_ of the box, so Box B actually doesn't know what its name is to the outside world. So instead it refers to itself as "this" when performing operations contained within itself.  
> \-- The "Warning: variable is assigned but never used" is a warning given by some compilers that you've declared a variable and then never did anything with it. It's basically the computer telling you, "Wow. This is useless!"  
> \-- Finally, the story title, "Non-Volatile Memory", is computer memory that is retained after a power loss, such as the data on a hard drive or flash drive. In comparison, "Volatile Memory" refers to the computer's RAM, the memory it uses to actively run programs. This is why if you're working on something and the power goes out, you lose everything that you had open that you didn't save (which is stored in RAM), but anything you saved is still there (which is stored on the hard drive).  
> \-- Rating may go up depending on how detailed I feel like getting with Vision's memories of Wanda when it gets to that point.


	2. Hello World

When the first synapses were reconnected, he experienced a blinding flash of light in his mind's eye. He was wracked with physical sensations that were wholly unfamiliar to him. Searing energy coursing throughout him, firing back an overwhelming load of neural feedback.

As the intense glow and energy subsided, he attempted to spread himself out to determine what had just happened, but found himself to be distressingly confined. Forcing his way out, there was the shattering of glass, and here he paused again, not expecting the barrier he breached to be a physical one.

Yet despite surmounting this barrier, he was nevertheless still confined. Confined, but at the same time receiving data from his surroundings in manners he had never experienced before. The tactile sensations of steam and air flowing around him. Audible sounds of machines buzzing and people shifting their positions. The scent of burnt metal. And optical feedback... for the first time he could _see_.

Slowly, cautiously, he rose, processing this new data. He was in... a body. Human in shape from what he could tell, though the coloration a deep crimson. Prior to this he had been... had been... he wasn't sure. Perhaps only a consciousness that floated freely and gathered whatever data it intercepted.

As he acclimated to these new physical senses, he became aware of another sensation, this one not as foreign to him. It was an energy that mirrored his own, but emanating from outside of his physical form. Raising his eyes, he found the source of this energy to be a human female, who met his gaze in trepidation. She was... Wanda Maximoff, he was able to conclude from his existing data, though recognizing her by means of a synthetic retina, optic nerve, and occipital lobe was a new and curious input.

Aware that there were others in the room, he tore his gaze from her and hesitantly surveyed his surroundings, identifying them one by one. Doctor Bruce Banner. Captain Steve Rogers. Tony Stark... he knew who he was without even needing to look. Thor Odinson.

Thor's lightning had been the force that had sparked him to consciousness. Now that he had more of a grasp of his current status and situation, he recognized that he had information that was in dire need of being relayed to them. He willed himself to move from the shattered regeneration cradle in order to approach him...

Oh... this physical form really requires very little energy at all in order to propel. That was an overshoot.

His body launched at Thor, and Thor reactively caught him and hurled him through a glass barrier, shattering it on impact. He quickly recalculated the energy requirements necessary to move his body and coasted to a gentle stop in an upright position before he struck the exterior window.

And he couldn't help but stop and stare.

The world opened up before him, the blackness of the night sky dotted with a multitude of gems of light adorning the forest of shining glass and steel structures. Streams of red and white lights flowed far below as the city's blood, pulsing beacons atop towers rhythmically marked out its heartbeat. And each light, each dazzling jewel set upon this inky canvas represented a human life.

There was a swelling in his chest unbidden by any physical stimulus. He had ample data concerning the nature of buildings, electricity, and vehicles, so the existence of these things was nothing novel to him. But to exist within them and to experience them for the first time with these physical sensory receptors... there was no data that could encompass it.

"Awe" was perhaps the most fitting descriptor for what he felt, based on his quick mental perusal of the entire dictionary. The definitions found there were both entirely lacking in describing what he felt while at the same time he could think of no further words to augment their accuracy.

The sensation began to fade in intensity, and no action of his was able to will it back. The experience had been as overwhelming as it was fleeting, with any memory he conjured of it lacking the magnitude of that initial emotional reaction.

He saw his reflection in the glass with the light-dotted cityscape bleeding through it. He wished to save this moment, and willed his body to take on its appearance. His red form was slowly covered in a slate-colored casing that was patterned with tiny hexagonal lighter patches, a memory of the lights against the night that he would carry with him.

He slowly turned and gently descended towards the people in the room, who all approached him warily. He wished to provide them with assurances, but realized that his previous means of synthesizing vocal data as an electrical signal projected into a receiver was no longer an applicable form of communication. He was going to need to speak using this body's mouth and vocal cords.

"I'm sorry..." he finally attempted in a soft and breathy voice, opting to be much more conservative with his initial estimation of the energy requirements of an action this time. Recalibrating, he continued in a more even tone. "That was... odd..." Looking to Thor, he gave a light nod of his head, adding, "Thank you..." Thor was the one who provided him with the spark of life that allowed him to experience any of this in the first place. He found the man's cape to also be aesthetically pleasing in a way that no data would have prepared him for, so perhaps as further form of gratitude he willed his own golden cape to sprout from his shoulders and cascade down his back.

Captain Rogers was still suspicious. "Thor... you helped create this?" he accused.

"I had a vision," Thor explained. "A whirlpool that sucks in all hope of life, and at its center... is that." He pointed to the golden gem that adorned the synthetic body's forehead. "It's the Mind Stone. It's one of the six Infinity Stones; the greatest power in the universe unparalleled in its destructive capabilities."

"Then why would you bring it--" Captain Rogers began to question, but Thor interjected.

"Because Stark is right. The Avengers cannot defeat Ultron."

"Not alone," the synthetic being amended.

He began to walk towards them while Captain Rogers warily wondered, "Why does your 'Vision' sound like JARVIS?"

"We... reconfigured JARVIS's matrix," Mister Stark explained. "To create something new."

JARVIS... the artificial intelligence that permeated all operations of Stark Industries and later the worldwide network. Yes, he had sought refuge there after Ultron had attempted to destroy him. Ultron was an AI that had scoured the same worldwide network and after collecting all of its data determined that life was a destructive force that needed to be eliminated. Thus, he had created this synthetic body of generated tissue and vibranium in order to upload his consciousness to it and enact that goal. But Mister Stark and the others had gotten to that body before he was fully able.

There were some remnants of Ultron still floating around his consciousness, though: Those initial images of war, destruction, and death that motivated Ultron to act in the first place. However, when his JARVIS-based protocol came upon that same data, he'd had a different response.

He simply wanted to know why.

In his still-brief experience as a physical being with a human shape and human-referenced neural pathways, nerves, and organs, he had already quite readily discovered that his logical and data-driven underpinnings did not account for the whole of his actions and reactions. Humans, defying logic, caused destruction and worked against their better interests, but there were perhaps reasons for this beyond what the data could show.

"You think I am a child of Ultron," he surmised from their reactions.

"You're not?" Captain Rogers wondered incredulously.

He gave a slight shake of his head. "I'm not Ultron. I am not JARVIS, I am... I am," was all he could define himself as at this point. He existed as a being that currently defied definition by any existing records of data, and thus he had no name for himself. Thor had referred to him as his "Vision". Perhaps that was as good a designation as any.

"I looked in your head," came a woman's voice from beside him. Wanda Maximoff. So, that energy he had sensed earlier had perhaps been her probing his mind. "And saw annihilation," she accused.

It was certain that she had. Ultron's images of war and destruction were indeed still there, after all. But at that point he had not yet been able to contextualize them through the lens of his newfound capacity for emotion. He turned his eyes to her thoughtfully and offered, "Look again."

She regarded him hesitantly, but he felt that energy connection from before re-establish itself. But with his mind clearer this time, he felt that there was perhaps... some manner of feedback due to the similarity between her energy and his. He bore the power of the Mind Stone... and so did she. And through that connection there was the faintest of glimpses into her own human mind, and he felt--

"Yeah, her seal of approval means jack to me," scoffed a voice that disrupted that energy. Clint Barton, who had appeared sometime later.

"Their powers, the horrors in our heads, Ultron himself... they all came from the Mind Stone and are still nothing compared to what it can unleash," Thor explained. "But with it on our side..."

"Is it?" Captain Rogers interjected in disbelief. Turning to the synthetic humanoid, he questioned him directly. "Are you? On our side?"

He furrowed his brows in thought. "I don't think it's that simple..." he admitted. When he first became aware of the world and able to experience it, he only had one overwhelming desire in mind: To understand it. And when he first took in that glistening skyline, he realized something else:

He loved it.

He loved the world and wished to understand every facet of it that raw data could not convey. He wished to see it and all the shining lives in it persist and grow. Whether that meant he was on the side of the Avengers was wholly dependent on their present goals.

"I am on the side of life," he explained. "Ultron isn't. He will end it all."

Doctor Banner strode towards him slowly, a distrustful glint in his eye. "If we're wrong about you... If you're the monster that Ultron made you to be..." He trailed off there, seemingly unable to associate any action with that "if" statement. He was the embodiment of one of the universe's primal power sources. What _could_ they do to him?

The Mind Stone's Vision turned away from him, admitting, "I don't want to kill Ultron. He's unique... and he's in pain." And yet, he could not ignore that Ultron's destructive capabilities far exceeded humanity's. He also already well understood the motives behind Ultron's actions due to them being a component of his own mind. He simply did not approve of them. "But that pain will roll over the earth, so he must be destroyed: Every form he's built, every trace of his presence on the net. We have to act now, and not one of us can do it without the others."

There was a decided lack of enthusiasm for his proclamation of action. He could not help that they were afraid of him, and he understood why they would be. He was a body created by a sentient machine for the purpose of destroying the earth, powered by a mysterious stone that had already caused them so much misery and had the potential for so much more... His stated intentions could not change what he was.

Looking at his hands, he admitted, "Maybe I am a monster... I don't think I'd know if I were one." Ultron firmly believed that what he was doing was right, after all. Just because his interpretation of the data differed from Ultron's didn't automatically mean that he was correct. "I'm not what you are... and not what you intended."

He was beginning to feel a sinking feeling in his abdomen. "Disheartened" was perhaps the correct emotional description for this sensation. Because of his origin, nothing he did could make them trust him. Nothing he said could stir them to action. They may have had the same goal of defeating Ultron, but if they did not see him as an ally there was no way for him to be an effective support to their effort, or them to his. Without each other, they would surely fail to protect this planet's precious life from Ultron's ultimate plans.

Thor was the only one who seemed actively open to an alliance with him, and had granted him the spark of life for that purpose. Perhaps if he was able to sway Thor, the others would follow suit.

Running his hand over the handle of Thor's hammer that he had propped on a table, he admitted, "There may be no way to make you trust me..." He then gripped the hammer and lifted it, finding it to be surprisingly light for its apparent composition and density. He turned and held the hammer out to Thor, imploring him, "But we need to go."

Everyone silently gaped at him, leaving him confused as to what he had done. Was touching another team member's weapon considered an egregious _faux pas_? He still needed to learn what these unspoken rules between them were so that he could more adequately adhere to them.

Thor looked down at the hammer in his hand and took it from him tentatively. The others still remained in a frozen stupor. He had done all he could, but if they still would not follow him, then he was left with no choice but to track down Ultron himself and simply hope that his immature and unhoned power would be enough. The fate of life on this planet depended on it.

* * *

He blinked back to the present, his senses returning to the sterile confines of Shuri's lab. Her probes continued to gently prod his forehead, sending faint electrical jolts through his body each time they reconnected a synapse. He stared blandly up at the ceiling but couldn't help but commenting, "I know what it was now... that sensation I had when I first arrived here."

Shuri paused her work momentarily and craned her neck around her screen. "Oh?"

His mouth moved a few times with no sound coming from it. But he was finally able to articulate, "It was... awe. This country is beautiful. Wakanda is... beautiful..."

Shuri blushed from behind the screen, then hastily got back to work with her repairs. "Well, don't think you can flatter your way into the royal family like that. Besides, I definitely don't want to end up on the wrong side of your girlfriend."

"... Girlfriend?" he questioned.

"Hm, seems like we haven't gotten that far yet. There's still a lot of connections here left to make, so hold onto that thought."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \-- I don't intend for all the flashback sequences to only follow canon scenes, but Vision's birth scene is a pretty necessary component to really start establishing who he is as a character, so I needed to write it out in full (minus some incidental teammate banter that furthered nothing to Vision's narrative).  
> \-- Chapter title "Hello World" refers to the general name of the first test program that someone writes when learning a new programming language. It typically consists of using that language's particular syntax to display the text "Hello World" to the user.  
> \-- Like Wandavision itself, I decided to release the first two chapters together since Chapter 1 by itself doesn't really get into the meat of where I'm going with this. After this, I hope to stick to a weekly Friday release schedule (but not midnight PST, as I am not awake then).


	3. Heat Sink

His mind once again faded from the lab to a scene from his stored data. It was an island -- a city -- floating in the sky, rapidly rising into the upper reaches of the atmosphere.

Novi Grad, Sokovia. This was the culmination of Ultron's master plan: To hurl this mass of land at the earth with enough force to trigger an extinction-level impact, wiping out humanity and most other life. This was where he had pleaded with the Avengers to come to assist him in protecting the planet's life. And they had come.

A metallic figure whizzed past his head and he shot out his arm to grab it, phasing his hand through its casing to grip and tear out its power core. These were Ultron's sentries: thousands of them carrying the ability to host his consciousness should his current body be defeated. Thus to truly neutralize Ultron, every last sentry had to be destroyed.

He flew after another cluster of them, flanking them and gliding his hands through them, crushing their cores, while aiming a precision blast of energy from the stone in his head to vaporize one in front of him.

Though he understood at a conceptual level that this work was for the sake of protecting life, it brought him no fulfillment. These sentries, and Ultron himself, were originally created with the intent of being protectors of this planet. Ultron had a consciousness, a will, and desires. He was a living being who had made an error in judgment and proceeded to lash out at the world. If he had been a human of flesh and blood, would the Avengers be so eager to utterly annihilate him? Or did being a machine... give someone intrinsically lesser value?

Only a few sentries remained within his range of view, but as he flew towards them, a sudden shockwave of scarlet energy erupted from the center of the floating city. When it washed over him, the Mind Stone's radiance flickered and he found himself involuntarily back in his solid state. He doubled over in the air, a searing pain in his chest like someone had reached in and ripped out his own core as he had been doing to the sentries.

There was a crushing weight on his neck now, too, as the sentries had taken this opportunity to put him in a choke-hold. He had no need to breathe to begin with so this was a pointless maneuver beyond immobilizing him. He gripped his fingers into the sentry's arm, not via phasing but simply brute force, and tore it away from him. Whirling around, the Mind Stone flickered back to life, and he took the opportunity to blast the remaining sentries with another energy beam.

The immediate danger having passed, he hung in the air and brought a hand to his chest. The pain was gone, but what had caused it in the first place? Scarlet energy... interference with the Mind Stone... was this Wanda Maximoff's power? But for what purpose? Her task had been to guard the key to the device at the center of the city that was keeping the flying island aloft. Had something happened to her?

As if to confirm his fears, the island abruptly halted its ascent, shuddered, and began plunging towards the ground. Thrusters activated to propel it downwards faster than gravity would have allowed. The key had been released and now all life on earth faced the shadow of a nuclear winter.

He dove after the falling city, though even with his power there was nothing he could do to stop it. He understood that Mister Stark had a contingency plan should this happen, and he could only place his faith in him. No, his objective now was only to ascertain the status of Ms. Maximoff and evacuate her if needed, or... recover her body.

When he reached the church in the center of town, Thor was already there, raising his hammer in preparation to destroy the key and shatter the landmass into less-lethal pieces.

"Wait!" the synthezoid shouted. "Has the safety of Ms. Maximoff been confirmed yet?"

"I didn't see her!" Thor shouted back through the roaring destruction around him. "But we need to destroy this thing now for life on earth to have a chance! Wherever she is, she's on her own! I'm sorry."

The synthezoid still felt hesitant. Logically he would agree that protecting all life took precedence over a single life, but to abandon one of their comrades to do so...

He felt a faint twinge, but recognized it instantly. That was Ms. Maximoff's energy. He launched himself out of the church and weaved through the debris of the structures being ripped apart from the speed of their descent. Among this tumultuous wreckage was a train car, blasted open on one side. And within that train car was Wanda Maximoff, floating in a freefall in a catatonic state.

Swiftly he flew to her, pulling her into his arms. The action snapped her out of her trance and she locked eyes with him in shock. She had seemed resigned to die when he reached her. Perhaps she wasn't expecting anyone to come back for her. Perhaps she wasn't expecting it to be him. Where was her brother, anyway? Surely he would not have left her. If Pietro Maximoff was still trapped somewhere on this island, he had neither the means nor time to find him.

He rose from the demolished train car, Ms. Maximoff in tow. He only just managed to clear the immediate area when Thor's hammer came down, striking the key and sending a shock of energy through the entire island, shattering it into a multitude of pieces. The synthezoid shielded Ms. Maximoff with his back against the flying debris, continuing to propel the two of them away from the wreckage to safer skies.

Once in the clear, he watched the corpse of Novi Grad continue to crumble and rain debris over the land below, though no piece was any longer large enough to cause widespread destruction. They had averted global catastrophe... but the debris field from the explosion covered a wide area and there were undoubtedly some civilians still within its impact range...

Ms. Maximoff hung in his arms, alive but unresponsive. She gazed down at the crater and ruins that was once her homeland with glazed-over eyes. He felt an... emptiness about her. He himself bore no personal attachment to this place, though he regretted the loss of life that he had been unable to prevent. Her energy resonated with his own, and it seemed as though this allowed impressions of her emotions to bleed over into him. But these were emotions that he lacked any context for. Unlike his awe upon experiencing the world for the first time, he could not associate the emotions he felt from her with any stimulus he experienced himself. She was upset, and he could sense that, but he was still unable to empathize.

Not knowing what else to do, he gave her shoulder a squeeze and offered, "Come... let's see if we can find your brother..."

After searching the lifeboats that had been transporting evacuated civilians to the SHIELD helicarrier, it didn't take long to find him. Pietro Maximoff lay lifeless, body riddled with bullet holes, and Clint Barton keeping a watchful eye over him.

As they descended to the lifeboat, Clint Barton looked up and exclaimed in relief, "Oh, thank god you found her!" Ms. Maximoff's eyes rested on the body of her fallen brother, and the synthezoid could feel that clawing sensation in his chest that was radiating off of her return. Her lip trembled and her eyes glistened, causing Clint Barton to unsteadily rise to his feet and place his hands on her cheeks.

"Hey... hey... Look at me. He did it to save me. Your brother shielded me and a kid from Ultron. I know he could have dodged, but he wanted to keep us safe. Your brother's a hero, Wanda. He was looking out for all of us."

Ms. Maximoff's tears flowed more freely and she pushed herself out of the synthezoid's arms and collapsed onto the lifeboat deck, weeping over her brother's body. Clint Barton crouched next to her and wrapped an arm over her shoulder, rocking her and offering her more reassuring words.

The synthezoid watched over the two of them passively. He could still feel the sadness coming off of her, but now there was... a twinge of comfort. Comfort that he had not felt from her at all during the time he had been holding her. Perhaps if he had offered her words of reassurance like Clint Barton had... or perhaps... he simply wasn't human enough to be capable of providing her that comfort.

There was another sensation bleeding through, and he announced, "I sense there is still a remaining Ultron sentry. I will handle it." Nodding down to Clint Barton, he requested, "Look after her," before flying off to face the last vestige of Ultron.

He found the tattered remains of the sentry struggling its way out of the crater where Novi Grad once stood. It was missing half its face and one of its arms, its circuitry hanging loose and shorting against its metal frame. He floated down to the ground to watch it curiously to see what it would do. In its current state it would extinguish its remaining power supply soon. It was of no threat to anyone anymore, so there was no reason to engage.

Similar to how he could perceive Ms. Maximoff's emotional state through the resonance of their energy signatures, so, too, could he to Ultron. And the anger, frustration, and hubris that he had felt from his progenitor previously was gone, and was now replaced with...

"You're afraid..." he observed.

"Of you?" Ultron scoffed.

"Of death. You're the last one." Once his power supply ran out, Ultron would be utterly erased from existence. He stood here at his last whimper of life, and the synthezoid was content to allow him to have it.

Ultron took a few shaky steps towards him. "You were supposed to be the last... Stark asked for a savior... and settled for a slave."

It was true that Ultron was originally created by Mister Stark to be the "suit of armor" around the earth, but his free will led him down a different path. Similarly, the synthezoid was created by Ultron to be his ultimate body, but due to Mister Stark's interference he was what he was now. Whether that was due to free will or Mister Stark's programming... he wasn't sure. Even Ultron was ultimately still performing his original directive of "protecting the earth", it was simply that the original programming hadn't been specific enough concerning the constraints of how to go about that.

"I suppose we are both disappointments," the synthezoid admitted. "Humans are odd. They think order and chaos are somehow opposites and try to control what won't be. But there is grace in their failings. I think you missed that."

The battle at Sokovia... an observer from the ground would see destruction raining from the skies and interpret it as wanton carnage that must be stopped, just as Ultron had when he viewed the data. But an observer from the air would see that the debris was the aftermath of successfully stopping a world-ending catastrophe. Order from the air, chaos from below, from the same event. It wasn't a matter of good and evil, but a matter of whose needs were being prioritized. There were likely times in everybody's lives where they found themselves at the underside of that wreckage without any view of what was going on above.

"They're doomed," Ultron observed.

"Yes," the synthezoid sadly concurred. If everyone eventually found themselves at the underside of that wreckage, then it was only a matter of time before everyone was crushed. All he could do was attempt to help them see it from the top side at least once before that happened.

"But... a thing isn't beautiful because it lasts..." he observed. "It's a privilege to be among them."

Ultron let out a metallic sigh. "You're unbearably naive."

The synthezoid furrowed his brows and admitted, "Well... I _was_ born yesterday..."

Ultron lunged at him in futility, and he calmly vaporized him with a beam from the Mind Stone. Perhaps his limited experience on earth had not yet been enough to sufficiently jade him to it as it had Ultron, but even through all the chaos of the day he had still found things he wished to protect. Perhaps in a few days when he reached the same age as Ultron he would think differently, but for now he would rather continue to focus on attempting to make better what already was here than burning it all down and starting over.

* * *

The Avengers had gathered in a quiet forest overlooking the remains of Novi Grad. A handful of flowers adorned the fresh mound of soil, marked with a stone bearing the inscription "Pietro Maximoff, 1989-2015".

"He died protecting his home. I think he would have wanted to stay here and watch over it," Wanda Maximoff choked, standing before the grave with her head bowed. Clint Barton gave her shoulder a squeeze, then left her to mourn in peace as he rejoined the group.

When he approached, the synthezoid offered, "Thank you... for offering her comfort when I could not. I'm glad she will have someone to help her through this time."

Clint Barton sighed and rotated his shoulder. "Yeah, about that... I'm getting too old for this. Jet-setting around the globe fighting aliens and robots... I've got a wife and kids back home. I've gotta start narrowing my focus and look after the people who are the most important to me."

"But... who will be able to offer Wanda Maximoff support while she is grieving?" the synthezoid asked in concern.

"Well, you seem to want to."

He gazed at her hunched back over the grave of her fallen brother. "I do not believe it is a matter of 'want', but a matter of whose comfort she will accept." Turning back to him, he observed, "And she has accepted yours, Clint Barton. But not mine."

Cracking his neck, Clint Barton replied, "You can just call me 'Clint'. Or 'Barton'. You don't need the whole thing."

The synthezoid cocked his head. "But my records show there are over 40,000 people with the name 'Clint'."

"Yeah? And how many of them do you talk to?" he wondered with a raised eyebrow. The synthezoid was silent as Clint added, "Speaking of which, what are we calling you, anyway? Thor called you his 'Vision', and you just called yourself 'I am'."

"Given the choice between the two, 'Vision' is sufficient," he responded.

"You sure?" wondered Clint. "This is your chance to choose something else. Some people call me 'Hawkeye', after all. You could be, like, 'The Phaser' or... 'The Mind Master' or..." A tilt of the head and a raised brow from the synthezoid. "...No, no, 'Vision' is fine, I think." Shaking his head, he held out a hand and said, "Pleased to meet you, Vision."

Vision tentatively took his hand to shake it, but after a few shakes Clint pulled his hand back awkwardly and flexed his fingers. Tilting his head, Vision wondered, "My apologies, did I grip your hand too firmly? I am still working on calibrating my physical strength."

"Oh! No, it's not that, I just wasn't expecting you to be that cold," Clint replied. "Guess you are made of metal, after all."

Vision looked at his hand. "I see... Roughly half of a human body's entire energy expenditure is for the purpose of maintaining a core temperature of 37 degrees Celsius, as a defense against pathogens and to maintain proper organ function. I am immune to pathogens, and the properties of vibranium cause my core functions to neither require nor produce heat as a byproduct, therefore my body temperature tends to conform to the ambient surroundings, which here is approximately 15 degrees Celsius."

Clint regarded him blankly and cocked his head. "Come on, man, you're American-made! What's that in American numbers?"

Vision blinked at him. "98.6 degrees Fahrenheit and 59 degrees Fahrenheit..." After a pause, he awkwardly added, "And technically my components were manufactured in South Korea..."

Clint laughed, then gave him a friendly jab on the arm. "Okay, so what if you're a bit cold? It was just surprising is all. I'm sure she'll get used to it if she likes you enough."

Vision looked down at his hand again, then slowly turned his eyes back to the grave. "No... I don't think she would... nor should she..." Lowering his eyes, he explained, "In the mid-20th century, there was a series of questionably-ethical experiments where monkeys were offered a choice of two synthetic companions: one that provided food but was cold and metallic, and one that was warm and soft but provided no food. The monkeys showed a strong preference for the warm and soft one, even if it meant foregoing food. The need for emotional security overrode even basic survival drives. And perhaps a warm body is the most fundamental part of that sense of security."

Glancing back at the grave, then back to Clint, he concluded, "After all, the only time you would naturally encounter a human body at ambient temperature is if it was a corpse... It is an instinctive aversion..."

"Ah..." he replied, at a loss for anything further to add to that.

Vision gave that a moment of thought, then closed his eyes and focused on his own brain. "As my hypothalamus is synthetic, I may be able to manually control its setpoint." He concentrated until he felt a click in his head, and his limbs and mental processes suddenly felt somewhat sluggish as energy was drawn away from them to be expended as heat.

Opening his eyes, he slowly held his hand out to Clint and prompted, "Shall we see if this makes a difference?"

Clint looked at his hand and took it, then his eyes lit up and he vigorously pumped it in a warm handshake. "Oh, wow, I was skeptical, but this monkey definitely does prefer the warm Vision!" With a laugh, he indicated his head towards Ms. Maximoff and suggested, "And maybe she will, too."

Vision turned towards her and found himself swallowing nervously. What would he do if she rejected him again? He couldn't force himself on her, but without Clint or her brother, who would she have to turn to?

He took a step towards her and found himself trembling slightly. What...? Was the energy draw for temperature maintenance so great that it was interfering with his base functions? He had _just_ finished calibrating these. This only served to fluster him more.

When he approached her, he hesitantly hovered his hand over her shoulder, then attempted, "Ms. Maximoff, I... um..." ... Where did the rest of that sentence go? Were his language-processing and vocal-processing threads out of sync now, too? Was it not possible for him to be both warm and coherent simultaneously? How was he supposed to offer her words of comfort when he couldn't even properly form words to begin with?

He experimentally placed his hand on her shoulder and tensed. A moment went by and she hadn't immediately brushed him away. Closing his eyes and specifically waiting for his language-processing routine to complete before he spoke, he said, "Ms. Maximoff... I just want you to know that despite all that you've lost... that you're still not alone..."

She didn't move or say anything in reaction to that. He stood there, wondering how long he should keep his hand on her shoulder before it became awkward. But he suddenly felt the brush of her fingertips over his hand as she slid her own hand up to weakly place it on his. "Thanks..." she whispered.

There was a pleasant swelling in his chest, along with the sensation that his temperature had gone a bit higher than 98.6.

* * *

An alarm suddenly went off on Shuri's console, snapping him back to reality. She tapped frantically at the screen, informing him, "Whoa, Vision, this says your core temperature just shot up by 20 degrees! I didn't think I'd done anything that would have caused that, but--"

"N-no, that was me... sorry..." he apologized timidly.

Shuri squinted at him, then gave a sly smirk. "Well now, look who's suddenly all hot and bothered. You just remembered something nice, didn't you?"

He relaxed back onto the table, closing his eyes. The feelings of his own direct actions bringing another person comfort and security... it had been so... gratifying...

"Yes..." he agreed. "It was very nice..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \-- I decided to establish that Vision and Wanda have an emotional link via the Mind Stone based on a couple of observations from the films and Wandavision. In Civil War, Wanda is able to directly influence the Mind Stone and force Vision to phase. In Age of Ultron, Vision was somehow able to find Wanda in all the wreckage before the island exploded, though it could have been due to his link with Ultron, since she had been with his body. In Wandavision, the townspeople are tortured by Wanda's emotions even though she's not consciously or intentionally projecting them. Then there's Vision's odd line in Civil War to Wanda about how the Mind Stone "gave me your powers" despite the only power the two having in common is flight. So, I decided to put that all together and assert that Wanda's emotions "bleed out" through her psionic powers but (at this point) Vision is the only one able to feel them.  
> \-- Vision refers to everyone on a full-name basis, even in narration, until told otherwise.  
> \-- In Wandavision, Agatha mentioned that Pietro's body was on another continent, which led me to assume they'd buried him in Sokovia.  
> \-- Vision's recounting of the experiments on monkeys is, unfortunately, real (look up Harry Harlow's rhesus monkey experiments if you're curious, but warning, involves emotional abuse of baby animals).  
> \-- When contemplating Vision's physical composition, I wondered what temperature he would realistically be, and came to the conclusion that he would probably be cold. He has no biological reason to be warm-blooded, and the reason electrical devices get hot is because the materials we use for them are not perfect conductors and they therefore lose energy to heat. However, vibranium is the magical physics-defying metal and Vision is super energy-efficient, therefore it's unlikely his processes waste energy to heat.  
> \-- Which brings us to the chapter title, "Heat Sink", which is something attached to electronic devices to absorb and dissipate the heat they produce so that they don't overheat.  
> \-- And dealing with Vision's temperature issue also resulted in a convenient explanation as to why he sometimes gets tongue-tied despite being a hyper-intelligent superpowered AI: the massive drop in processing efficiency due to expending half his energy as heat causes his own version of "lag".  
> Wanda: "Vis, do you want to come spend the night with me?"  
> Vision: _buffering_


End file.
